


Tell Me

by livebynight



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ivar x Lisbet, Phone Sex, first person POV, smutty one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 22:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11171337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight
Summary: A one shot that takes place many months from the current point in Keep Your Silence...Lisbet is drunk and needy, and missing Ivar during a night apart.





	Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Keep Your Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732503) by [livebynight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight). 



> Thanks for reading!

I was drunk.

My thumb hovered over my phone screen while I contemplated texting him. The clock on the upper right-hand corner displayed that it was almost three in the morning. I didn’t think he’d be sleeping, he normally stayed up late. But I knew he had some work to do and I didn’t think I should bother him.

The alcohol in my system disagreed.

I pulled up my inbox; Ivar was at the very top with his usual ‘pick up your phone’ text. Months later and he still didn’t like texting.

_Hey_

I sent it quickly. Then immediately felt stupid and got up to pour another glass of wine. I’d lost count at this point, but my impulse control had been ebbing away with each one. Busying myself with a refill was helpful while I waited for a response. Whenever I would text him, my phone usually ended up ringing shortly after. Now it was heavy silence. The volume of my television wasn’t distracting enough.

Ten whole minutes later and –

_?_

A fucking question mark? What the fuck?

I was pacing the room now, wine glass in one hand and my phone clutched in the other. I glared at it, affronted. This is stupid. I threw the phone on the bed, it landed with a dull thud as I paced one final time. Really? A fucking question mark? I emptied the wine glass in two solid gulps and slammed it on the night stand a little harder than I should have. I sat on the edge of the bed and picked the phone back up, pursing my lips. Maybe I shouldn’t have started this?

But the alcohol disagreed once more.

_What’re you doing?_

He was faster to answer this time. To be honest, I was surprised he hadn’t just called me already.

_I’m in bed._

_Sleeping?_

_Evidently not_.

I sulked. I didn’t even know why I wanted to text him in the first place and he could be such a grump. I’d probably woken him up and I’m certain I had annoyed him. But then my phone was beeping again. I lay back against my pillows before reading it, sending the fresh drink straight to my head.

_Did you need something?_

The wine was making me very warm. I couldn’t decide what I needed. All I knew was that I wanted his attention and his lack of helpfulness was doing nothing but irritate me.

_I miss my man._

…I hesitated before sending that one. I didn’t really call him anything besides Ivar. He didn’t seem the type to be into pet names so it never crossed my mind to call him anything else.

_I told you to spend the night._

_You seemed busy… Didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, Sofia wanted me around. Boyfriend just dumped her. She’s not doing so well._

_Young love…_

I laughed at his response. This was the most we ever texted and it made me giddy to see him trying to be funny.

_Where are you now?_

_In my room._

_Alone?_

_Yes._

It took much longer for him to answer now. Longer than the original ten minutes. I tried to picture him, then. Imagining him in his fancy king-sized bed. Shirtless, of course. And wearing his hair down. Drunk-me bit my lip at the thought. _Yes_ , the hair had to be down.

I closed my eyes, let my mind drift onto more thoughts of a shirtless Ivar in bed when my phone started ringing. My eyes popped open and I looked at the screen, pleased to see it was him calling.

“Hey.”

“You’ve got that baby voice on.” Ivar commented. Fuck, he sounded so sexy. He normally did, but the alcohol in my veins now had me nearly breathless just hearing him speak.

“I do not,” I argued – I totally did. It was something drunk-me did occasionally, especially when I was feeling needy.

Ivar’s chuckle resounded in my ear and I sighed.

“Are you drunk?”

“A little,” I lied. I was definitely more than a little drunk. Ivar hummed into the phone. It was quiet on his end and he sounded like he was actually lying down. I wanted to see him. I wanted more to be in bed with him. I was reaching the point of drunkenness that there wouldn’t be many productive things I’d be capable of doing, but still. I longed to feel him next to me.

“And missing me, huh?” He continued.

“A little.” I said again, trying to keep from grinning. It always felt like he could read my thoughts, even through a phone.

“Can’t even go a day without me,” he remarked, his voice catching in a way that I could hear his shit-eating grin. I couldn’t deny that one. I last saw him not even twenty-four hours ago. And here I was, horny and wanting, texting him in the middle of the night.

I heaved a dramatic sigh into the phone. “Don’t be rude.”

“I think you want me to be rude.” Ivar replied all too quickly. My drunken body suddenly became more alert just from the tone of his voice. I could never get used to Ivar’s dominating transitions; they always left me shaken. “It’s three in the morning, you’re _a little_ drunk… I think that’s exactly what you want me to be.”

I probably should have thought this through, for now I had no idea how to respond. My mouth opened but no noise came out, and after a moment I could hear him tutting. To my horror and more so to my excitement, he continued.

“You wish I was there?” He asked rhetorically. “You want me to be there to touch you?” It was more of a statement than a question. I could hear him sighing at my lack of answer. “Tell me, Lis’.”

“Yes,” I said breathlessly.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Ivar.” I said again. My eyes slid closed as my tongue roamed across my bottom lip. He had me conditioned.

Ivar hummed approvingly on the other end. He was quiet for a moment before – “Why don’t you touch yourself for me?”

I groaned. “ _Ivar_.”

“ _What_?” He snapped. I could hear him moving, probably sitting up from the sound of it. “My hands would have you begging already. You know it.”

I did know it. He was too good with his hands. “Go on…” he persisted. “Start with your breasts.”

His teeth hissed on the word and I couldn’t resist any longer. Perhaps if I wasn’t as drunk as this, I would’ve been embarrassed. But my hand slid over each of my breasts through my camisole now. I gripped snugly, already breathing slightly heavier.

“ _Good_ girl…” Ivar approved. “What would my hand do to them?”

I grinned and slid my fingers under my bra, pinched my own nipple and couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped as I twisted it in my fingertips before kneading into my flesh. I don’t think I would’ve been as turned on if he weren’t speaking into my ear, instructing me on what to do. But his voice was low and husky, as if knowing exactly what I did.

“That’s it…” he purred. “Just think of me.”

“I _am_.” I murmured.

“Good.” He said again. “I want you to really touch yourself now. Pretend I am on top of you. Think of my mouth on your body.”

“ _Ivar_ ,” I squealed again. It was torturous because all I wanted was his mouth on my body.

He hushed me on the other end and still I couldn’t keep from letting my palm slide over my stomach. I was doing as he said, picturing him on top of me. My hand slipped under the hem of my camisole and petted the swell of my belly, mimicking what I thought his mouth should be doing if he were actually here. Goosebumps rose on my skin and I sighed, more content this time.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” Ivar requested.

It took me a moment to respond as my hand got closer to my jeans. “I’m touching my stomach, thinking of you…”

I felt all the more vulnerable, confessing to him like this. It felt just about as intimate as when we were actually feeling each other.

“What do you want to do?”

I let out a deep breath, dipping my fingers beneath the clasp of my pants. “I want to take my jeans off.”

“Take your jeans off, Lisbet.”

_Fuck_ , I wanted to see him so bad. He didn’t even need to be on me at this point – he could have been sitting somewhere across the room from me, just telling me what to do so long as I could see him.

“Okay…” I breathed instead. A persistent throbbing was growing between my thighs as I undid my jeans and practically kicked them off my legs.

“Are they off?”

“Yes.”

“I _love_ your thighs, Lis’.” Ivar all but groaned into the phone. “Touch them for me.”

I did – raking my nails over my skin before rubbing my thighs together. My knees knocked into each other and the heat only grew at their apex from the friction.

“Ivar,” I called to him, nearly in a panic now. Desperate for him as I became overwhelmed by the lack of his presence.

“I’m here,” he attempted to soothe. I whined in response, struggling to cope with the fact that I wouldn’t feel him inside me tonight. My body was aching for him so much I felt I would break. It was already writhing on the bed and all it took was the sound of Ivar’s voice.

I panted into the phone as I turned on my side. The alcohol flowing in my system was combining too harshly with the yearning I had for him. I felt dizzy, needing him to guide me to the next step.

“I want to know how wet you are now,” he said, the steadiness of his voice unnerving. “I want you to touch your cunt and tell me what it feels like.”

There was no hesitation as I did as told. I tilted even more, spreading my thighs so my hand could slide beneath my panties, and fingers sought my own entrance. It throbbed with the sudden attention and I moaned. My wetness seeped into my underwear and soaked my fingertips. On any other night, I could’ve tried to touch myself while I was this drunk and my nerves would’ve been so dulled I would be unsuccessful. Ivar made all the difference now.

“Lisbet…” He scolded, and through grit teeth, I could tell.

The words poured out of my mouth – “Fuck, I’m so wet, Ivar.”

I could hear the slightest groan escape him and my brows raised though my eyes were clenched shut.

“Are you touching yourself, Ivar?” I asked hopefully.

He grunted into the phone and a shiver coursed down my spine.

“Yes.” He finally said, and I keened at the admission. I dragged my fingers back and forth between my lips, even my hips were rolling now.

“Please tell me.” I pleaded.

“How bad do you want it?” Ivar asked.

I practically hissed at him and my hips stuttered against the movements of my hand. “Don’t you dare tease me right now…”

But his breathing was becoming heavy, I could hear it echo through the phone. I pictured his boxer briefs down to his thighs with his cock thick and hard in his fist. I imagined him stroking it, thinking of me as I fingered myself to the thought of him.

“I want you so much, it’s hurting me.” I admitted. “I _need_ you.”

“What will you do when you see me tomorrow?”

I rolled onto my back, hand still rubbing into myself. There was no shyness anymore, and maybe later I’d blush at my own words, but now wasn’t the time. “I’ll beg for you to fuck my mouth.” I could hear his breath hitch in anticipation. “I want you to make me choke on your cock… I want to gag as you come down my throat.”

Ivar moaned loudly into my ear and I felt a hint of satisfaction.

“ _Fuck_ , Lisbet…” He murmured, voice still trembling. “I want you to come now.”

“Yes, Ivar.” I replied dutifully, more than ready.

“I want you to rub your clit, and I want you to think of my tongue while you do it.”

My fingers responded immediately; I had to muffle my noises as the pads of my fingers rubbed roughly over the swollen area. My hips jerked against my hand and I chomped down on my lip, feeling the tight bundle of pressure in the pit of my groin grow stronger and stronger until I was suddenly coming.

I still tried to be quiet, with my roommate just in the next room. My moans were strangled in my throat, escaped in shrill shrieking until I was able to turn onto my stomach and press my face into the pillows.

Ivar was silent as he listened to me. But during my comedown I could hear a growl resound from the depths of his chest. He was better at being quieter than I, but my spine curled at the mere sound of his whimpers as he rode out his orgasm. My mind went straight to the image of his cock pulsing with each spurt of come, dousing his own hand the same way I had done.

It was oddly grounding.


End file.
